


heal my hurts

by xdarlingnickyx (Sonny)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Angst, Comment Fic, Drama, First Time, Hurt & Comfort, Knotting, M/M, Omega Verse, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-12
Updated: 2012-01-11
Packaged: 2017-10-29 09:38:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/318479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sonny/pseuds/xdarlingnickyx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Life off of the road should be simple and easy, but as Dean [ <i>Alpha</i> ] and Sam [ <i>Omega</i> ] try to live in the pack house while their father Alpha, John, goes off on his usual hunts...they have to contend with the idea that each are approaching their heats and most fertile times where once John returns they will be bred out for pack purposes, when they only want to be with one another...</p><p>[ <i>Sam is 14/15yrs of age</i> ]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> from **take_the_knot comment fic meme - Request - Dean/Sam, underage!needy!Sam, self lubrication, fingering, dirty talk** (Anonymous) Little Sammy (~14 years old) wakes up to find his hole leaking slick and with a deep ache for something. Jerking off does nothing for him and when he tentatively tries to finger himself, he almost explodes but it's still not nearly enough. The only solution, of course, is to go to his big brother, because Dean knows everything. Lots of fingering from Dean and sweet dirty talk before he fucks his little brother with his knot.
> 
>  **** warnings [ kinks ]** :** underage ; fingering ; self-lubrication ; spontaneous orgasm ; raw/bareback sex ; knotting ; dirty talk

“I don't know. I'm out here, workin' on the Impala...and it's _not_ helping.”

“Well, be glad he's in school, huh? Or you'd really be up shit creek...on him like he was a big juicy cheeseburger.”

“uh, 'bout that...uhm, he's actually _here_ , came home early. Freakin' kid walked home from school. He looked—I don't know...sweaty and drenched-through, like he'd just run a friggin' marathon.”

“...you seen him since?”

“nah, man...been out here, distracting myself with classic rock en' the engine open with smells of grease and oily lubrication all over me. Last thing I wanna do is make him more sick.”

“...hmm...tha's strange. Puberty's 'bout the time it'd be _more_ painful. Now, right 'round 14 or 15 he's hittin' his next major heat stage, when he's most fertile...”

“jesus, Bobby...then why the hell am I the one babysittin'? Dad and you realize I'm about to hit ** _my_** prime soon...when ** _I'm_** in my second heat, and I'm most fertile too?”

“Look, son...it's as simple as this...breeding ain't an exact science, so we have to work with what we got, when we got it. One would hope that your bond as brothers is stronger than your pack statuses. That you both understand exactly what roles you play in the scheme of things.”

“While I don't mind being bred out to the pack in order to keep us strong...I don't like the idea of Sam being tossed between other Alphas, just to make them 'pups'. We move aroun' so damn much, I don't know who's who...half the Alphas I knew are gone now, mated and off on their own.”

“You can't change what he is, Dean. You know his fate was decided the minute we learned he was Omega and not Beta...maybe it coulda saved us all some heartache.”

“He's still...such a kid himself. I can't see...hell, I don't even wanna _think_ about them older Alphas taking him or even the younger ones about my age. It just...makes me sick inside. I wanna pack our bags and take Sammy away—with me. And, yes...I'd take him on as **_my_** _mate_ — _my_ ** _own_** _Omega_ , to keep him safe.” _...as my own, like he's always been..._ Dean thinks only inside his mind.

“Boy...this ain't the time to be meddling in a decision tha's already been made.” Bobby clears his throat. “You shoulda made your grievances known a helluva lot sooner than now. John's slowly getting arrangements made...Sam's prolly feeling his heat come on, which means he's reaching the perfect time to breed. When your father returns...don't plan on your brother being at home much for the next few weeks...”

“What if I just...go right up there an' take him?”

Bobby sighs heavy. “... ** _I_** have no problems, but your father's looking forward to the cash trade-off to keep you boys afloat for the next few months...”

“He doesn't need to sell Sam's womb to make a decent living to keep us fed and warm. He can get enough from my breedings, since stronger, and fertile, Alphas are harder to come by, and there's plenty of—”

“...preachin' to the choir, boy. John's got the scent of _another_ hunt. Might keep him away past Winter. He's making sure you two don' want for anythin'.”

“ _What?_ An' leave me here to raise Sam an' some other knot-head's 'pup'? No...” Dean shakes his head adamantly refusing even as a mere idea, not as a reality—-but the “idea” is closer to becoming true. “...if I'm gonna raise a 'pup' of Sam's...it's gonna be **_mine_**.”

“Fine...fine.” Bobby grumbles in aggravation, not wanting to get caught up this Winchester family mess all over again. John knew where his thoughts about Sam's breeding went, even Dean's as well. “Do what feels right...natural an' instinctive to you.” He knew he was stepping on some toes with this one, but he had to try. “It's not unheard of for siblings of the same family, in the same pack, but of different statuses to mate, as long as you realize...once you do this, Sam'll be **_yours_**. Not just _your_ ** _mate_** , but _your_ ** _full responsibility_**. Along with any 'pup' or 'pups' you two have.” bobby clears his throat, knowing that silence from the other line meant Dean might be considering the very idea as a viable possibility. “John may hate you for a while, but I think he'll come aroun' once he knows that his sons are grown, able to fend and take care of one another.”

“ _...mmm-hmm..._ ” Dean picks up the tools he has laying around the open hood's ledge and begins putting them back in their proper places. “ _..._ look, Bobby. I'm really getting' worried 'bout Sam. Maybe I'm jumpin' the gun and it's not his _heat_...he could really be sick.”

“yeah...yeah, of course...I'll let you go. You give me a call when you know more. You'll have me frettin' for hours if you don't.”

“I promise, man. I will. If you hear from me _too_ soon, then it's an emergency and I might need your help.”

“oh, criminey...don' say that shit. Sam'll be fine. You'll know exactly what to do to tend to him the best way you know how.”

“...g'bye, Bobby.”

“Bye, son.” Bobby has to quickly add to make sure Dean doesn't get seriously reamed out by John, because he knows how the kid looses focus when it concerns Sam. “An' lock up the garage before you head into the house. You know how much that car means to your father.”

“ _yes, I do...I surely do._ ” Dean mutters out almost under breath as he hangs up, moving to the sink to wash his hands. As he dries the moist skin, he wanders around to dip inside the front cab of the Impala, turning the radio off. He's pretty sure his father won't mind if the hood's still raised, but he goes over to the switch to move the small lever, causing the garage door to lower at a jarring slow speed. Luckily, he knows he can walk away and it'll still fall on its own, he doesn't have to stick around. Which he doesn't, because as he shuts off the lights, he takes the set of steps that lead into the tiny mud/laundry room and toes off his boots.

Then two second later he's shucking off his dirty t-shirt to replace it with a cleaner one, or one that doesn't smell like his own sweat, and a stank mixture of grease/gasoline/oil. He can't recall which basket is clean clothes and which ones are needing to be washed. It had been Sam's turn for laundry duty this week, and the kid never paid attention to the timing of the loads of clothes, so it takes him the whole damn time, rather than only a full twenty-four hours or maybe a day and a half.

Dean can't complain, honestly. Sam's got school to go to that drags him away from chores around the house and half the time he's bone-tired when he comes home at 2:30-3pm, mainly because the school is half regular school...the other half is teaching him about his body as an Omega and exactly what it'll take to be the kind of mate an Alpha wants. He's high school age, but Sam's too smart for the level of education the tutors are teaching the fifteen-year-olds. Dean knows how bored Sam gets at school, while dreading the rest of the classes he's signed up for, and some not by choice. There has got to be a ton of pressure on the poor guy to be everything he can be. So, Dean tries to cut him slack when he's at home.

This is why Dean sniffs at the baskets, figuring out which is clean and dirty, then he separates the clothes. He should've known better, because not only is he touching his father's and his own clothing, but Sam's as well. And because Sam is slowly going through his encroaching heat, there are more young boy's boxer briefs in the basket than usual. They used to be covered in slick, sticky and probably sopping wet. Now, they're so dry and stiff they're like cardboard...and Dean can still scent the smell. He always has been able to become keenly aware of his brother's scent, the potent stench of his slick as he wakes from sleep in the mornings or when he tries to take a nap, drenched in all-over body-sweat and laying in his own pool of slick. As usual, there's a set of sheets, mostly the fitted ones, that Sam discretely had to pull off his mattress to hide the fact he can't control his young Omega body from self-lubricating whenever he feels a second of arousal.

The thought...the single image alone, sends Dean's body into overdrive. He's been around for some of those times, but for the most part, Sam likes to lock him out of his room when those times happen. Or Dean arrives two seconds too late and Sam's already cleaned up his mess and he's calmer than he was an hour or two ago.

Now Dean's quickly shoving a load of whites into the washer, throwing in the usual trio of liquids and powders, then he pushes the buttons and walks away to check out the dryer, make sure there isn't a leftover set of clothes to take out and fold. He hates being half-assed about chores, so if he starts, he likes to finish to a viable end until he's forced to walk away or sit there and twiddle his thumbs. He's got lunch to prepare—he'll make something for Sam, too, and take it up to him—and he really needs to get upstairs before he regrets waiting for too damn long and he misses whatever's going on with his little brother.

==&&==&&==&&==

Sam wakes up from his thirty minute nap in a pool of his own slick, typical sweat-drenched all over his body, having kicked off his covers eventually as he slowly began to overheat. It's an embarrassing moment, yet again. Not because of what he must look like, but because of what he thought about in his dream.

When he learned his fate, being brought in front of a group of Alphas to be looked over, found attractive and arousing or being found lacking and rejected...

 **...he has taken to imagine that moment a bit differently; that every single Omega he's being bred alongside of has been taken and he's the last one standing. And as he bows his head in shame, all these fertile and horny Alphas look at him like he's a big piece of steak. His “moment to shine” is handled a bit differently where he's forced to undress and turn around, get on all fours and push his hole outward for as long as he can hold the position. It doesn't matter if he leaks lube or if he makes his own cock hard, pre-come seeping out as he puts himself on display. Someone, the Breeder, controlling the “auction” wanders closer, a riding crop in his hand as he rubs the flat square piece of softened leather over Sam's skin, down his sloped back to slap his bare ass lightly, then slipping down to tap on his gaping pink-hole...and then the most intense overwhelming release hits Sam at the very moment and he comes all over himself...the Alphas growl and applaud, each of them vying for a sample of taking him one-by-one...**

...and then Sam wakes up to find himself back in reality, in his own bed and laying face-down and on his stomach in a mess his body created while he had been sleeping _...dammit..._ he wished he could control this like some of his Omega friends could, or swore they could since it's more of a private thing each of them deal with in their own bedrooms.

Stupid of him to trust Scotty McPhelps with those dumb pills of his he swore would take care of Sam's “problem” when he was in school, and couldn't get away. Sam had just gotten up the nerve to ask Scotty to bring them in today, and they, apparently, don't work instantly or else he's having bad side effects to them. This feels worse than his heats usually do and he can't stop this feeling of needing to be filled or the urge to push backward into a huge knot.

He rolls over to find a dry spot on the fitted sheet, taking off soaked t-shirt and his soggy briefs, throwing both over the side of his mattress to make a squishy plop to the floor. He spots a dirty, but dry bath towel nearby that he snatches quickly and lays down right where the huge wet spot has formed. He flips back onto his belly, making sure to tuck his erect cock under his body, then he hitches his right leg up to open his crease. It's worse than he thought because he must've been leaking for longer than his dream lasted, his skin almost sticks together as he tries to open his thighs. Painful, yes, but mainly pleasurable as he exposes his wet hole to cool air. Sam drops his flushed face into his pillow, biting down into the plushness, grabbing some pillowcase material in between his teeth.

He hates doing this next step, but he knows it has to be done or he'll keep making himself suffer. But he doesn't like to just stick fingers into his body and bang them hard. He actually pretends the hand chosen to do the action isn't his, but it belongs to an Alpha—an Alpha who adores him...wants his body, but not just for procreation, that the Alpha really loves him and wants to share their bodies together. He doesn't like to admit that the image he has is Dean, so it become Dean- _like_ —there's a Senior Alpha in his school, a real jock—football, basketball, baseball—and he has the sweetest smile when he looks at Sam, and the “wink” that's sent to him each morning often sets him off because it reminds him too much of Dean. And the fantasy Alpha becomes this messy hybrid of his older brother and this Senior jock...and sometimes he can come with a satisfactory release, but other times... _like now_...no matter how much he tries to play at seducing his own body, it's never enough.

He'll slide down his cheek to cup his jawline, sometimes taking his fingers into his mouth to moisten them and trail along his throat, he'll soothe over his collar to rub over one erect nipple...pull and twist, make himself cry and buck backward, then it's off to the other nipple, where he does the same but harder because it's better to feel the pain to hide the agony of no one actually being there, no warmth at his back and no cock to fill his waiting hole. He'll slip down his ribcage and hold onto a hip, sometimes he'll tangle in his pubic hair and tease his own cock, tickle down the throbbing vein or rub over the leaking tip to spread the liquid over the sensitive skin, wetting his fingers again with the taste of his own juices, but then he's back to cupping his ass cheek. And as he pulls it apart from the other cheek, he teases down the crack, finding the wide hole that fluctuates in time to his fingers being near, like his body knows what's about to happen.

He can feel the thickness of the lube once he enters, and he buries his face away in the pillow again as he jams those two fingers—always two fingers, never just one. Even the first time, during puberty, when he was thirteen and he learned exactly who he was compared to Dean. He had wanted to be an Alpha. Hell, even a Beta. Anything to _not_ be an Omega... _jesus, not that, please_...

But then again, the world didn't take kindly to Sam Winchester and devised to always give him the shit-end of the stick when it came to life sucking.

As he pushes deeper in, trying to simulate what it must be like for a huge length to fill up his emptiness, he realizes that maybe he's not getting off because of the angle. So he slowly rolls over onto his back, bending his knees to plant his feet down on the mattress, toes curling into the sheet and towel as he strokes his cock, teasing with his other hand, tugging and juggling his oval testicles to then slip along the wetness to find his hole again. He can't quite get inside unless his lifts his legs, bringing his thighs close to his chest. When he does that he has to let go of his length, attempting to wrap his arm across the backs of his thighs. He's trapped his arm down the front of his body, cricked his hand in order to fit two of his fingers—any fingers—past his sphincter into the slickness that's starting to collect but not release. He knows if he doesn't come soon, the stuff is simply gonna ooze out of him and dripping down his inner thighs. He'd rather come hard once and have it be over-with, but he just can't find the right sweet spot. Or the pills he took have made him more horny than he's ever been since nothing seems to appease his wanton body.

And the worse thing he can think of is still being caught trying to get off...his bed being covered in his slick and spotted in moisture to prove just how weak of an Omega he is...and then Dean'll walk in and...well, _what_?

Sam is pretty certain he had locked the door, but now he's not sure because he's too caught up in his arousal to remember. But he does in the instant he hears the soft knock and Dean calling out, “ _hey, Sammy...you okay in there?_ ”

“ _...uh..._ ” Sam doesn't know how to respond, legs up, arm stuck and fingers deep inside himself. He hears the quick twists of the knob and is relieved to know he was on the ball with locking the door ahead of time. But then...he forgets this house is old and these doorknobs are crap; the locking mechanisms sometimes stick, giving the false idea of having locked yourself safely away from curious eyes. “...wait, Dean, I...”

And before he can get the rest of his sentence out, his older brother enters his bedroom, clearly expecting to find something else entirely than what he finds Sam doing. Certainly not as comically perverted as the way he looks right now.

For some oddball reason, Sam stops caring if Dean sees him or not. He works his fingers roughly into his hole, whimpering and crying, scrimping his face up in agony as he tries to build up to an orgasm that just doesn't want to surface and expel from his body. And to show how much he doesn't care about Dean being there, Sam cranes his head completely backward into his pillow, closing his eyes as he pounds into himself in a frenzy.

“ _...jesus christ, kid..._ ” Dean really thought he'd find Sam asleep, not trying to fuck his own hole into oblivion. He wanders over, placing a knee on the bed and attempting to pull Sam apart from having folded into himself. Probably not the brightest idea he's come up with, but he has to do something to stop that pained expression from sticking on Sam's sweet, innocent baby-face. It's so far removed from the wanton knot-slut he just saw seconds ago. He manges to hold down an arm and a leg, watching as Sam folds toward him, finally feeling the shame of what he had been doing. Dean allows Sam to curl into him, letting go of the limbs so he can soothe down the hunching back and grab the back of the nape to tangle in the dark brown hair. _God..._ not only is Sam covered in the lube and his own come, but there are buckets of sweat coming off him like he's standing close to a flame. “ _...sammy, man..._ what is up with you? Why you home so early, for one?” Dean has touched much more disgusting things, he's not embarrassed by what he can only imagines coats the stickiness over Sam's skin. He looks down at the material of the towel, where a blotch of wetness is beginning. He pulls back the towel to see the large pool of slick on the sheet. “ _...oh, boy..._ ” Now he thinks he knows what's going on. Dean brushed back the dangling brown bangs to press a soft kiss to the pale brow. “Get up.” He moves backward to stand up, motioning for Sam to roll off the mattress toward him. “...wanna shower or take a hot bath?” He'll help Sam with either that he decides he wants.

Sam sits on the side of the bed, hunched over, trying to hide his nudity away and all the bodily juices he knows he's covered in. There isn't a stretch of flesh not sticky or wet. He feels like such a knot-slut now, he can only imagine what his brother thinks of him. “...uhm, bath, I guess.”

Dean pulls off the towel, not sure he should use it to cover Sam, but he takes it away, throwing it into a basket, to move into the bathroom and find a larger towel or even a robe. He notices how shamed Sam is about his naked body and he doesn't want to embarrass him anymore. Dean might be going through his own aroused state—from smelling Sam's leftover scent and feeling his intense heat—but it's never too much that he forgets how to take care of Sam. Even before he mates with him, which he will be doing once Sam is comfortable in his own skin. Right now, the kid looks like he wants to crawl away and hide somewhere he feels safe. Dean doesn't like that the “safe place” might not be wherever _he_ is; he's about to change that idea in the next few hours.

He brings Sam a short robe, holding out the material for him to slip his body into. Sam stands, arms V-ed across his chest and covering his genitals as he sticks out one arm, sliding into a sleeve and then he dips low for Dean to settle the material across his slim, broad shoulders, so he can tuck his other arm into the next sleeve, safely tying the robe to completely cover his nudity. Dean pats the shoulders, curling around the bone to give a sharp squeeze, letting Sam know he's here with him and everything is okay. What startles Dean is the fact that without him noticing, his little brother has shot up another inch; pretty soon, when he's sixteen or seventeen, the kid won't be such a “kid-size” anymore. Sam has always been long and lean, rather on the thin-side, but he's filling out in places, with muscles that have suddenly just cropped up like they were there all along. Dean's also trying not to imagine the size of that impressive adult-sized cock—it's length and girth—nor the wide gape of that gloriously pink-hole that he swore “winked” at him as he walked in...

Dean's a bit more rougher with Sam as he steers him toward the bathroom. He passes him to slide over to the tub, snatching the curtain to pull across and dipping low to turn on the faucet knobs.

Sam leans weakly on the wall, the robe hanging off his young body, making him look like one of those Roman boy slaves. Though the robe is tied around his thick waist, the lapels drape open to expose the willowy muscled chest, baring one dark erect nipple, the other popping out of the soft material. He licks his lips, finger-combing back his shaggy locks to then cross forearms over his chest. “I coulda done that on my own.” Sam smirks as he watches Dean sit on the side of the porcelain and fill the tub with water like he was still some doe-eyed innocent.

“I know...” Dean mumbles out as he dumps a palm-sized dollop of liquid bath soap, swishing around his arm in the water to create a layer of bubbles. He doesn't know why he's always been happiest “babying” Sam or “mothering” him, if that was the actual word of what he did occasionally to make the kid aware of his deep love and affection. This was probably the sole reason he had a problem with this whole situation with breeding Sam out to another Alpha, and why he was whole-heartedly against it. No matter how old Sam got, Dean would always find him too young and naïve, still innocent in the ways of the harsh, cold-hearted world outside their doors of wherever they lay their heads to call it home.

Sam understood what Dean was trying to do. He hated this too, even more than Dean did. He didn't like knowing that his brother would be bedding down with Omegas and Betas, finding his own connection with a mate so he could create a 'pup' in some other pack member's womb. He wanders over, sitting down on the closed toilet lid. Dean is turned perfectly at an angle where he can lean against he hunched back and lay his head down, resting against the only scent and heat that's been able to calm his aroused states, but not lighten their heaviness when they attack him. He closes his eyes, pressing his cheek against the space between the wide shoulder blades, brushing his hands down the soft, worn t-shirt material, feeling the warm supple body underneath.

Sam flips his head, pushing his other cheek into the body as his fingers lower to the waistband of the jeans, to then slide up beneath cotton and settle at the hips. He simply taps his fingertips against the bare skin, not even imaging what his touch and closeness are doing to Dean. But the quick, hurried way Dean stands, to then push away to walk out of the bathroom, is a sure sign that something is peculiar about his brother today. Maybe finding Sam fingering himself was a bit more disturbing than Dean was prepared to see. Frowning, Sam unties the robe, sitting down where Dean had just been to throw one leg in to test the water temperature, then the other leg to finally slip down and sink under, fully drenching himself in hot water.

Dean had to leave that bathroom or knot Sam right there on the toilet or...drag him into the tub, take him in a precarious position on the old porcelain and tiled wall. He needed distance, but then again...the bedroom filled with nothing but Sam's slick scent and his all-over body odor...Dean really didn't know which was worse. He pulls off the fitted sheet, keeping the array of pillows near the headboard, then notices that the thin sheet and comforter are still clean, just piled around the end of the bed-frame where they had been kicked off earlier, so he won't replace them. He goes over to the trunk at the end of the bed, digging around for one of the mis-matched fitted sheets—Sam was smart to tell him to stock up on plain-colored fitted sheets, no other bed linens, when he went shopping. Dean touches the plastic cover over the mattress, which was another smart addition Sam asked for so he wouldn't keep ruining mattresses; they learned that lesson in Sam's thirteenth year, during his puberty heats.

He can hear the splashing, and light laughter fits, the way Sam plays in the water, rather than settling down to wash himself and shampoo his hair like an adult. Dean knows he should go back into the bathroom soon to make sure Sam hasn't missed a spot, but he'll finish up making the bed, then he'll go through Sam's drawers to collect a decent pile of clothes Sam can change into. He won't ask Sam to wear everything, not yet, because Dean will just be taking everything off. He looks down at his hands, catching them shaking. It's kind of nerve-wracking to prepare in the seduction of your own kid brother, but somehow he knows it's going to be something special, and it'll go better than he imagines in his mind. He never gets Sam's reaction quite right in his fantasies.

Sam has a tendency to throw him zingers that just rip at his heart. One minute he'll be so mature, Dean thinks he's talking with another adult, but then Sam will become that little kid that still has tons to learn about life. Dean knows that once he's mated with an Alpha, Sam will have no choice _but_ to grow-up. And it saddens him to think about that happening with another Alpha who might try to change his brother too fast, never allowing him to still be the teenager he is.

Dean palms a pair of tight boxers and there's a t-shirt on his forearm as he re-enters the bathroom. He drops them both down on the sink ledge, smirking over at Sam as he sponges down his legs, paying attention to his inner thighs and in every crevice he can't see, even down to his toes and between them to scrub over the soles of his feet. Once Dean reaches the doorway, he hears his name called out. “ _...what?_ ” He folds his arms over his chest, tucking his hands away under flexing biceps.

Sam momentarily tilts out of the tub to slap his hand down on the toilet seat lid. “ _...c'mere..._ ” The hand is covered in sudsy water, so the bubbles pool for a minute, then start to run down a side of the lid, like it's not quite evenly attached to the rest of the toilet. Dean's going to have to check that out, because he doesn't know why he keeps having to tighten those back bolts to the lid almost every couple of days. Sam waits until Dean is seated before he crawls out again, and then he's sliding his arms around Dean's neck tight, allowing water and suds to drip over his brother's clothes and bare skin. He buries his face away in the side of the long neck, pressing his hot forehead in. “ _...mmm...m'sorry..._ ”

Dean's unsettled by the sweet embrace, the warm affection given. “What for?” One thing he loved about Sam being Omega was the never-ending hugs they could share without shame. He didn't even mind getting wet so much because he had exactly what he wanted in his arms. Now, if only he could channel that into an intimate sensual moment to then test the waters of it actually being _sexual_...he'd be a very happy, satisfied Alpha. The reason he didn't mind mating—breeding with other pack members—was because he only wanted _one mate_ in his life—and that would be _Sam_.

Sam shrugs weakly, slipping down to lay against Dean's chest. _God_ , this was his most favorite spot ever. He feels his body even out, his breathing relax and his heart rate slow...and then those familiar strong arms surround him and his body churns with a new sensation. He furrows his brow, scrunching his face, bewildered by this sudden onslaught of arousal, but it isn't begging to be quenched right this second. _mmm...weird._ “...help me wash my hair, huh? Like you used to do.”

“Like I used to?” Dean tightens his arms in a hard squeeze, a gentle kiss to the crown of the already wet head. One hand pets the long strands and Sam mocks a purring cat from under his throat. Dean swallows down a chuckle, lifting his brother's chin to stare down at those ever-changing features that still make his heart clench. He knows the minute those hazel eyes open, he'll be a complete goner for sure. Dean knows he better play off his aroused state, so he pushes down on the head, acting like he'll dunk Sam entirely under, possibly holding him there for a few seconds.

“ _...no...nooono..._ ” Sam can't help but giggle in between his pleas. Dean's barely giving any strength, Sam mostly weakening himself so he can play at drowning. A quick way to dunk his head to re-wet it. When he resurfaces, Sam rubs at his lids, spitting out an arch of water he intentionally swallowed. Dean's sitting there with shampoo in his hands, ready to scrub away with his fingertips. Sam makes it easy for him by folding his arms on the tub ledge and offering out his head. Dean actually takes it as a serious task and scrubs hard, massaging the scalp, even reaching the back hairline and around the ears. Sam closes his eyes like he could return to sleep but he knows the step that must come next.

A bathroom cup, from the set they bought at the store, will help. Dean fills the cup with bathwater, then dribbles the liquid slowly over Sam's head as he cranes his neck backward. Once most of the shampoo dissolves, Sam leans his head forward. Dean dumps the full cup over as he rubs fingers through the individual strands. It's odd to him that Sam sits there and takes whatever he does to him with no complaints. Even though he's done washing the hair, Dean can't stop wanting to touch some part of Sam. So he starts to wring out the hair with his hands. Leaning Sam against his knees, placing a hand on his back to ease him to comfort. Sam scrambles for the drain plug, still sitting in the tub as the water vanishes, and a few bubbles remain. Sam rubs down his skin on arms and legs like he's able to wipe away water, but he's merely checking for any stickiness. He's a little stunned when Dean helps him to stand and turns on the shower spray for him so he can really wash-off what's still stuck to him. Dean twists away to grab the extra-large towel; he can't watch Sam touch himself like he has to: over pubic curls, down penis shaft and over ball sac, between ass-crack and then an all-over body-wash from drenched head to pruney feet. He holds open the material as Sam steps out and he'll leave Sam to dry himself too. Dean's afraid of something too soon when he knows Sam's not ready and he's unclear exactly how far he wants to go.

“When you're dressed, come back out...we need to talk.” Dean knows it's the worst thing he could say to start a conversation off with because he knows Sam'll think it's about what he had been doing when Dean had walked into his room.

Dean was right. Sam dried off quickly, donning t-shirt and warily spying the new pair of briefs. He didn't know what was in store for him so he left the underwear on the sink, wrapping the towel about his waist, tucking a corner in and slowly strolling out of the bathroom. When he comes out, he notices that his room is spotless—Dean's military precision of no dirty clothes on the floor...and the bed was re-made with a cleaner fitted sheet. Dean had pulled back the top sheet and comforter on one corner, like creating a spot for Sam to lay as he took one above the covers on the other side of the mattress. Dean had his arm stretched across Sam's pillow. He lowers his arm to put his hand on the spot he wants Sam to take. Sam complies, backing up to sit, then slide his bottom over, hoping not to dislodge the towel. He settles back on the pillow, wet hair plopping on the pillowcase. Dean could grumble about a wet head of hair leading to a cold, but he just sits upright, grabs the bottom hem of his t-shirt and slides it off to flourish it inside out, then mashes the material around Sam's head, getting him to lift up so it can tuck around the entire shape.

Dean clears his throat. “Is _that_ why you left school?”

Sam knows exactly what Dean's asking. “...yeah. I couldn't sit still in class. I started getting, uh...wet, but it hadn't soaked through my jeans, just my underwear. I went to the school nurse, who recommended I go home. An' so I slipped out before she could make a call to you or Dad.”

“Dude...” Dean rolls so he's close to Sam's side. He curls his arm tighter around the shape of Sam's head. “I don't mind pickin' you up for shit like this.” Dean dips his head, resting his chin on the t-shirt-covered head; his arm has slipped down to wrap around a shoulder. “...you know I wanna help you through _this_ any way I can.” He drops his voice to almost a whisper, just between them.

“I know, man.” Sam starts to turn on his right side, keeping his head down as he rolls toward Dean's chest wall. The one that's bare, muscular and staring at him with pert dusky nipples and a smattering of dark blond chest hairs that trail down to dive under the waistband of jeans and briefs to point to similarly colored pubic hair. Sam closes his eyes, feeling his hole twitch _...god-dammit..._ this is exactly what he didn't want. “ _...sorry...so sorry..._ ” He mumbles as he brings up his left arm to tuck the hand under his cheek.

Dean hates the desperation in that soft apology, like Sam knows he has done something wrong and he's willing to take whatever punishment Dean doles out for him. Dean hates that he can't see Sam's face, so he scoots down, laying on the pillow, green eyes staring over as he starts to peel away the completely soaked t-shirt. He places the material between them, reaching out to brush knuckles over Sam's cheeks. “I can only imagine how difficult times are for you...hitting this type of heat and not being able to, uh...properly satisfy yourself.”

“What do _you_ do?”

“...huh?”

“...your knot...most swell sometimes by accident or jus' 'cuz...what do you do beside jerk off?” Sam lowers his eyes and blinks, then raises his gaze to stare. “They show us films in class...the knot going inside the, uh...amount of semen released over time...” He swallows hard, scratching at the flush he feels crawling up his chest. His hole pulsates again and his legs go restless; he doesn't mean to kick and then tangle with Dean's legs. “...most make a huge mess like you see I can do, all by myself.” He drops his eyes again.

“If I find myself focused enough, I take it to the bathroom...like when I wake up with an erection or...I'm letting my imagination run wild and I'm near some, uh...receptacle I can just _...ecchem..._ shoot into. I try not to do it often, you know... ** _can't be wastin' good sperm_**.” Dean wiggles his index finger like he's John Winchester to his Alpha son.

Sam softly chuckles—a little of his embarrassment disappearing. He merely twists his upper torso, leaving his legs twined with Dean's, who seems to have a good hold on one of them. “...confession time?”

Dean snickers, folding his bent right arm under his chin, fascinated by staring at Sam's profile as he lays there with a smirk and a shit-eating grin ghosting his lips. “oh, Lord...it's not something that'll put me to shame, is it?”

“I don't know.” Sam clears his throat, bringing his arms over to rest on his chest, tapping out a beat. “I know you've been curious to why you keep having to fix my toilet seat lid.”

“...yeah, what about _that_ , huh? I know you're not that dangerous lifting the lid to take a simple piss.”

“That's not why.” Sam leaves it at that, lifting a hand to rest fingers on his mouth.

“ _oh?_ ” Now Dean is mega-ultra curious. He leans near Sam's face. “...share your most intimate secrets with me, Sammy...I won't tell a soul.” Dean reaches out to tuck back a lock of hair behind an earlobe. He knows the “Sammy” kills every time.

“ _well..._ ” Dark lashes blink fast, then lift up to the eyebrows as the hazel eyes gaze at Dean. “...sometimes I sit backward, facing the shelf-thingie and I, uh...finger myself, or I...find something phallic-shaped to fuck my hole with.”

Dean blinks, lowering his eyes to Sam's mouth, watching as lips opened and teeth came out to bite down on fingertips. The pink tongue peeks out to lick, but then goes back inside. “ _...christ, kid..._ ” He slowly drops his head to push against Sam's right shoulder. Now he's got two fantasies jumbling in his head of how Sam tries to orgasm alone and each one seems to get him hornier than his own imagination has. He tucks his face into collar and neck, slipping his arm across Sam's chest to bring the pliant body partially under his. He gulps down on a swallow, letting out a choked sigh. He turns his face into Dean's silky hair.

“I don't like hearing how they'll breed you with other Omegas...”

Dean nudges against the throat, whimpering in agony. “...I hate the idea of you being on display for all those other Alphas...like you're on some kind of auction block, being sold to the highest bidder.”

Sam can't help chuckling.

“What?” Dean raises his head, brow wrinkling as he rests his left forearm beside Sam's head.

“uh, nothin'...I haven't been having very good dreams since I learned exactly how this breeding thing goes down for me—well, for Omegas.”

“Is it...? I imagine that it's not anymore sick and twisted than what I—we Alphas—go through. I can choose to mate once, or choose to mate with up to three during each breeding session. Don't know that it's fair to you—Omegas or to Betas.”

“Don't know about Betas, but...no, Omegas kinda go with what the Alpha chooses that breeding session.”

“You scared?”

“uh, yeah...hell yeah...you?”

“Not really. I'm mostly concerned for you.”

“Me? Wha—? Why?”

Dean drops his gaze, leaning his head on his left hand, his right hand smooths over and down Sam's chest. “I guess I'm not willing to see you mated off or bred like you're some priced filly. I really don't know how I'll be if you come back here—if you're bred, not mated...and the 'pup' you carry needs to be tended to.”

Sam frowns, his face showing signs of true fear. “Would you hate me if I carried another Alpha's 'pup'?”

“ _heyheyhey...whoa...slow down..._ ” Dean leans in to press lips against Sam's face and rub down his ribcage. “Nothing is happening as of this moment. Just calm down.”

Sam closes his eyes and wraps both arms tight about Dean. “I don't know what I'd do if I lost you too. I'm already feeling like I'm not allowed back home...an' Dad seems so keen on selling me out to make some fast cash. If I lost you...I'm pretty sure my life'd be over once I had the 'pup'...”

“ ** _wait!..._** ” Dean pushes away, bracing on both hands above Sam. “What's this now? What about life being ' _over_ ' once you birthed a 'pup'?”

“They show us films, all to get us ready. They even show us births—natural and in a delivery room...dude, that shit looks painful. Few Omegas ever bounce back, especially the males. It's like a crapshoot, you know.” Sam shivers, looking away. “I mean, what am I worth if I can only carry _one_ 'pup' and my Alpha no longer wants me? or...if I can't be bred out again? I think I'd rather have an easy exit, not wither and die in loneliness...feeling useless and unloved. If that's what I have to look forward to then...no, thanks. I'd rather stay here with you.”

“ _With me? As what?_ ”

“...huh?”

“You're not just gonna mate... _ever_? Make yourself suffer like I saw you do when I entered this room?”

“Dean...” Sam opens his mouth, but then closes it as he angles his head to look into the green eyes desperately looking down at him—wide and saddened. He reaches out to clamp hands on Dean's arms squeezing in reassurance. “...you just said so yourself that you didn't wanna see me bred out, so...clearly you want the _same_ thing I do...”

“mmm...clearly we _don't_ have the _same_ options open.”

“Wha—? What do you mean?”

==&&==&&==&&==  
 **TBC**


	2. Chapter 2

“Think 'bout it, huh...I'm an Alpha—-you're an Omega...we know each other—-we get along...sometimes....is this not even on your radar?”

“You—? You wanna mate with me?” Sam hears his own voice go high and crack, but his body starts to churn again, like it had before. That new vibe coursing through him that took away all that fear and nervousness of mating with one strange Alpha or several. They had told him he would know his true mate when the time came: they said for some Omegas it happens early with being knotted, for others it happens right when the knot fills them, making them whole. It hadn't happened the first way for Sam and he was doubtful he would find it the second way either.

“Why is _that_ even a question?”

“I don't know. Sometimes I wonder how you can stand taking care of me 'cuz we're related. Being mated...Dean...tha's some serious relationship shit...”

“ ** _Dude! Do I look like I give a good god-damn?!_** ”

“ _no..._ ” Sam pushes Dean away to sit upright, sending his back against the headboard. He crosses his arms like a defiant child. “Is it wrong of me to have a fantasy? At least hope that the Alpha who chooses me, who I hopefully choose as well...loves me and'll tend to me like I need...like I'll want.”

“You think it'd be any different from what I do to take care of you now? What I've been doing since I knew what watching over my kid brother meant?”

“I'm not talking about _that_ stuff. It's kinda why I wanna stay here with you, 'cuz I know you'll care for me, no matter what happens. I just...” Sam drops his gaze to his lap, his hands fidgeting. “...the sex...knotting...what if we—what if we aren't compatible that way? What if...I don't look attractive to you or arouse you, or even...”

Dean grabs for Sam's hand, placing it on one of his thighs, close to the inseam, near his crotch. “Go ahead and feel _that_ , then tell me you don't ' _arouse_ ' me...”

Simply because he is curious, Sam bites his bottom lip, trailing his hand up the denim to cup over the zippered portion. “ _...you're hot...kinda hard..._ ” His fingers dance lower. “Is _that_ your knot?”

Dean keeps his gaze on Sam's face, though he hasn't looked at him once. “...yeah...tha's my knot...” He bends forward, hands reaching out to caress the side of the neck to lift the chin. “It's because of _you_ that it's that swollen.”

“Seriously?” Sam can't help but rub over the mound, as if to soothe its possible painfulness.

“Dude...not a day's gone by since you went into this breeding heat thing that I haven't gotten hard and wanted to knot you.”

“But you...you always seem fine. Always.” Sam takes his hand away only because he's arousing himself, thinking about making someone—Dean—hard.

“Years of practice, but...today...don't know...today feels worse, ever since you came home.”

“...confession time?”

“Another one?”

“This one might piss you off.”

“oh? Why?”

“See...there's this guy in one of my classes—Scotty McPhelps. He's 16...an older Omega and he said he had these pills that would help me, uh...stave off the urges.”

“Suppressants?”

“no...something different. Homemade.”

“dude...what did I tell you 'bout takin' drugs from strangers.”

“But I know Scotty. Since junior high. He's an ass, but...he's had two 'pups' and he swears by these things.” Sam frowns, shaking his head. “But, I think he sold me a dud...they just make me more, you know...like I want more, can't get enough.”

“Otherwise, you're fine? You're not dizzy or vomiting? Pain in your stomach?”

“no, man...like I said, feels like it just amped my hormones or something.”

Dean shrugs, sighing as he swipes at his brow. “ _...christ_ , now you got me curious...”

“I can't tell the difference because I usually go through several pairs of underwear a day.”

“And now? How are you—what about now?”

“...huh?”

“Are you still dry or have you gotten wet again?”

“uh...I didn't put on my underwear.”

“...so you're naked under the towel?'

“yeah...” Sam tucks his legs in, trying to bend them, but the towel's too tight and Dean's on his legs.

“Show me.”

“What?”

“Unwrap the towel and show me...”

“...my hole or...” Sam realized he's annoying Dean so he untucks the corner. “okay, okay...just lemme cover my—”

“I've seen your dick before, Sam...it's not gonna scare or disgust me...c'mon...” Dean crooks his finger, like he's seducing Sam to obey him.

Sam removes one flap of the towel, then places a hand over his junk, tugging away the other flap of the material to then use both hands to hold his cock and balls. He pulls them up to show the start of his hole, the perineum wet with slick already. Sam's able to bend his knees now and he butterflies one knee out to widen the view of his bottom.

Dean narrows his gaze, dipping his head at a tilt, then he reaches out to pat the towel to feel the moisture. He takes two fingers, palpating the split's start to rub over the hole. Sam hitches his next breath, one arm moving outward to grab onto the pillows at his side. “ _...god...you're... beyond sensitive down here._ ” He frowns like he's some type of medical expert. “I think he may have sold you the wrong pill...these are jackin' you up to 11, huh?” Dean keeps rubbing back and forth each time; he crawls toward Sam, fitting between his spread thighs and along his covered genitals to almost lay chest to chest. “...look at me as I'm touching you...” He whispers in hot breath to the sides of Sam's face.

Sam closes his eyes, swallows and slowly twists his head back to face Dean directly. “ _...ohgod...I think I'm gonna come..._ ” he blinks slow, tilting his head back to look at Dean under low lids. “ _...make me come._ ”

“I will...but not like _this_...” Dean plays around the puckered skin more, dropping down to kiss neck and collarbone, then bites at the collar hem of the t-shirt. “I want you complete naked...laying flat on your back.” He kisses a random spot on Sam's chest, then reluctantly moves away to sit on the other side of the bed, taking off socks, undoing his jeans and peeling off his briefs and jeans in one flourish. He remains seated having drawn up his right leg, bent. Dean tugs at the towel from under Sam's bottom while Sam rolls to his side of the mattress, slowly taking off his t-shirt to watch Dean fold the extra-large towel in half, then stands to pull back the rest of the comforter and top sheet so the bed isn't unencumbered with the tangle of linens. He drops the half-material down right where their bodies once had been and he taps his hand down to show Sam where to place himself.

Sam crawls first, forgetting to hide his cock, so it dangles erect as he adjusts himself on his back. As he's settling down, he's self conscious about his size and how full his testicles have gotten, but Dean keeps batting away his hands to the point where he almost pins the wrists down. “ _...sorry..._ ”

“...don't be...no need to be shy either.” Dean slides onto the bed, forcing Sam to bend his legs and plant his feet. He climbs to his knees, then drops to his left side. He's managed to safely tuck away his own cock and his knot, unsure if Sam could stand seeing them now. Dean sends out his right leg, bent and flat to the mattress. Letting Sam rest the back of his right thigh on the shape; Dean uses his calf and ankle to anchor Sam's right foot down. It's amazing how tangled he can be with Sam now, how bendable and flexible the tall gangly frame has become.

Dean starts out resting his left arm above Sam's head on his pillow, he clamps his right on the inner thigh of Sam's right leg, soothing over the dark-haired skin to ride up under the loose scrotal sac. He pushes his thumb right on the perineum, cupping his whole hand under the bare bottom. “...which fingers?”

“ _...huh?_ ” Sam had been too busy watch Dean to hear.

“Which _fingers_ do you like to use?”

Just by simple touch, Sam arcs up, crying out softly as he feels the sensation of pressure between his testicles and hole. “ _...uhhh...index and middle..._ ” He demonstrates for Dean, knowing his own fingers are longer than Dean's, but...Dean's look thicker with blunt, almost square fingertips. Sam jolts at the idea that this will feel way-more different than when he fingers himself.

Dean tests with one finger, the middle, letting it accidentally slip between the crease, slowly riding up and down the split. “...take a deep breath for me...” He leans in, head brushing the mussed, drying bangs. He bites down on his own lips to tamp down his rising arousal. “...one finger to let you get the feel of me, then I'll add a second.” He drops his hand, thumbnail scraping over the temple and upper cheek. “...but I want you to keep lookin' at me, _sammy_.. _._ ” Wide hazel eyes slowly raise to his. “I need to see how much you can trust me, how much I want this for you...how I want to be the only one to give it to you...” He lifts a corner of his mouth in a smile. “...you can feel safe to let go of me...”

Dean bends down to skim lips over a cheek, trickling down to meet jawline, tracing along to chin. “ _...I want you to let me in..._ ” His finger plays at the closed hole that twitches at his touch. “ _...let me in, sammy._ ” Dean whispers the words an inch from Sam's lips. “ _...push out for me..._ ”

And just as he does, Dean's fingers slip inside, sliding easily along the slicked walls. “ _...ohgod..._ ” Sam rolls his body, arching his head back into the pillow. “ _...s-s-sooo gooood..._ ”

Dean leans down to press his head into the pillow. _God..._ he had no idea it would be like this. “...it's like you're on fire in there...you fuckin' swallowed my finger whole...” He knows, for sure, he's not gonna last that first time knotting Sam. He knows now that he's gotta make it count, if it can't last. Dean pulls his fingers away with all his strength, then feels the tension ease out of Sam's body. “ _...tha's it...tha's it... open up for me...try to imagine these fingers are_ ** _me_** _..._ ” And just as he says the plural word, he adds that second one and plunges in. Sam jolts from the sensation, sending his right arm up to push on Dean's chest, the hand forming a fist to pound or an open hand to lay flat, while fingers dig nailbeds into flesh. Dean begins a slow action of in and out, but after a while, it's Sam who continues to ride, then widening his spread thighs and doing a downward upswing of his hips to catch every feel of the fingers inside of him.

Sam can't find a comfortable position, he keeps wanting to move and shift, but he knows what he really wants. He lolls his head around, eventually stopping to look up at Dean with blissed-out eyes. “ _...more...I need more..._ ”

“ _...you do_? If you want _more_...it'd be silly to add a third finger when I could just fuck you until you're ready to knot. Is that what you want?”

Sam closes his eyes, nodding his head. “ _...yeah...yes, I do...please, dean..._ ” He pushes his head as far back as it can go as he keeps thrusting, Dean slowly pulling out his fingers covered in sticky slick. With there being nothing filling him, but his body still wanting. Sam feels his thighs start to quiver as he jerks once to feel his body expel a coating of lube to line his walls, and he cries out on a groan to bear down, sending thick ooze out his widening hole. “ _...ohgod...I came...I_ ** _so_** _came..._ ” He lets out a light laugh to turn his head to look at Dean. But his brother isn't laughing, nor is he looking at him—Dean is watching Sam's body, witnessing him coming...and Sam doesn't feel ashamed or embarrassed because Dean looks...flummoxed.

“ _...jesus..._ did I make you do that?” Dean grabs the left hip and leans over to kiss down the chest wall to reach the flat stomach. “ _...I wanna be in you—in there so bad...I wanna feel that..._ ” He slides over so he's niching between the spread thighs. “ _...I have to get inside there and feel that around me...like I always felt it should be..._ ” Dean doesn't mean to seem impersonal or rude, but he grabs both of Sam's hips and halls him down the bed to lift his legs from the backs of his thighs. He settles the legs around his waist as he easily fits himself against Sam's bottom. Hands braced on either side of the torso below, Dean bends in nudging noses, then leaning his brow on Sam's forehead. “...hold onto me...hold onto my arms...I can't guarantee you won't feel this...” His cocktip pokes around, but then he reaches an exact aim and pulls back to thrust in once to the hilt, as swollen knot meets gaping hole.

Same belts out a scream like a banshee, fists pounding on Dean's arms until he goes still. “ _...ohgod!... tha's...more than I ever..._ ” He gulps as he tries to talk. “ _...you're so...I thought you'd be...you're so...thick—nnghhh..._ ” Sam moves a bit, trying to adjust on his own.

“ _...sammy_ , stop fidgeting...you'll make it worse...what'd I tell you 'bout keepin' your eyes on me...”

“ _...sorry, sorry..._ ” Sam smooths his hand up and down Dean flexing muscles. “...you've been nothin' but kind...an' gentle...like you always are to me...” He shuts his lids, heaving a huge sigh. “I'm still such an immature kid...”

Dean smirks with a squint of one eye. “...you sure aren't a ' _kid_ ' anymore...not in my eyes...you're doing so good for me...now, just need you to open yourself so I can start to move...”

“...there's _more_?”

Dean can't help but chuckle, lifting a hand to caress a flushed cheek. “...there's so much more...puts your fingers to shame...”

“...after _this_...we'll be mates? You and I?”

Dean can only nod his head because he actually witnesses happiness dawn over Sam's face. “... _if_ you'll have me...”

Sam goes still and quiet. “You're giving me a choice?”

Dean leans down to nudge again, skimming his lips in soft kisses on skin. “...with me, you always have a choice... _always..._ ”

“ _...oh, dean..._ ” Sam never expects to have freedom as a mated Omega. But he supposes if the Alpha he chooses is Dean, then he will get everything his brother is to him now, and so much more.

Dean witnesses something else cross Sam's features— _love_. And he's not quite sure he's even, literally, witnessed an actual emotion cross quite so profoundly. His face is taken between those long-fingered huge palms, Sam leans up to nip and breathe open-mouth as if tempting. Dean closes his eyes and gives in, arms hooking high around his neck and shoulders and the body opens to ease his thrusting. As lips connect and press in, Dean pulls out to push through again, catching each of Sam's pants as his body takes the brunt of his increasing tempo. It's not long before Sam can't keep his head steady, or control the volume of his cries, so he has to tilt his head away or up, but Dean is always there, kissing everything better.

Once he's found his rhythm, Sam joins in, fitting his counter-thrusting in perfect tandem, every so often, he stops, bearing down to release another splatter of lubrication, but the orgasms are timed with each massage of his prostate, which has certainly given Sam an erection crying out for attention. They both seem to have the same idea, their hands meeting around Sam's shaft, then Sam floats his hands away to hold onto Dean's body. He's beginning to want more, craving the knot and he's realizing it can't just be any knot...it has to be Dean's.

Sam knew it. He knew that he hadn't been a knot-slut like his fantasies kept telling him he was. He knows he can only mate once, with one Alpha. A perfect fit. His one and his true. Of course it could only be Dean. No one else he trusted, or loved, more.

Dean can detect it not only in Sam's face, but his body. The canal is loose and slick, the hole is stretched and prepared, ready for the inevitable. “ _...I need you, Sam...I need your body...need to take it to give you my seed...god...feel like I'm gonna burst..._ ” He bends low to kiss over the chest, licking and nipping pert nipples.

Sam sighs in contentment. “ _I want you...I want you to take me...I want your seed—wanna feel you fill me to bursting...want you to breed me...give me your 'pup'...promise I'll take care of it, an' you...like I'm supposed to..._ ”

Dean furrows his brow as he slows down his hips. He's not stopping, he's preparing to flip Sam over onto his stomach. “...you want to be bred... _by_ ** _me_** _?_ ”

Sam caresses the sides of Dean's face, fingers playing over parted lips. “...there's no way I can repay you for the life you've given me...the way you allow me to be...it'd be my honor to carry and raise your 'pups'.”

“... ** _our_** _'pups'._ ” Dean smirks, then winks, liking that they both imagine more than one.

Sam is about to revel in the feel of Dean's shaft slip-sliding inside him, but Dean pulls out swiftly to slowly turn Sam to lay on his stomach. “ _...oh, my..._ a new position _..._ ” He giggles and tries to scoot up.

Dean drags him back down, pining him flat with his own body. “ _...it's my favorite one..._ ” He nudges the dark brown head, biting and nibbling at the nape and shoulder. “ _..._ it's how you'll sense how my body really feels for you, since you can't see my face.”

“...of course I can.” Sam proves this by being able to twist only his torso. “ _...why, hello d'ere..._ I've _knot_ seen you 'round here before...”

Dean can't help but laugh, though he wants to be serious and kind of seductive. “...okay, no more puns for you...”

“oh, c'mon, Dean... _why_ ** _knot_**?” Sam snickers, his whole body shaking. “Get _it_? Why? _Knot_?”

“I get it...you goof-ball...now flip the fuck back over. I'm trying to work some ' _game_ ' here.”

“ ** _Really!?_** Like... _flirting with_ ** _me_**?”

“Shut up. It's an Alpha-thing.”

“oh...do ya gotta do this _every_ time?”

“ _no..._ just to win your affections, make your body crave me an' no one else.”

Sam rises to his right elbow. “...but what if I _already_ do all that...” He reaches up with his left hand to pet up Dean's chest, fingers tucking through fine chest hairs. “...seems kinda dumb...”

Dean gently shoves Sam's face into the pillow. “...down, boy...I'm the Alpha here...”

“ _...'kay, okay..._ ” Sam puts up his hands, though they're flat to the bed. “ _...uncle..._ ”

“ _...god..._ you can be so infuriating sometimes.”

It's because of that frustrated tone that Sam actually thinks he's ruined the moment. “ _...m'sorry..._ I swear, I'll behave... _don't go..._ ”

Dean furrows his brow, slipping off to the left side of Sam's body. “ _...m'not leavin' you..._ I'm just—did you pay attention at all in class, when they played this pack soft porn?”

Sam giggles-snorts, laying his head down. “ _...yes..._ and it was hardly _porn_ -worthy. It was kind of boring...and clinical...”

“well...when we knot...your hole will stretch around me and retract once I'm all the way in, unable to release me...we'll stay attached for, maybe, a few minutes or, sometimes, a half-hour or more...”

“...but that depends on us, right? Like what our bodies do, feeling the other swell and contract?”

“ _yeah...so..._ ” Dean motions to where he put pillows and blankets. “I'm only building us a ' _nest_ ' because first knots can be the longest...well, we may feel the want, or need, to _keep_ knotting.”

Sam lets out a small groan. “I'm gonna be sore, aren't I?”

Dean brushes over Sam's hair, grabbing the back of the nape. “...you won't be alone in that department. I have a lot of...feelings pent-up inside me, wanting to be let out...”

“For **_me_**?”

“ _yes..._ and the situation we're finding ourselves in, where I feel a desperation to...make you more ' _mine_ ' than you've ever been before.” Dean starts to pet down the back, smoothing over the bare ass. “ _...I'll probably fill you so full of my come...it'll seep out of you..._ ” He dances his fingers along the crack, watching the bottom arc up to reach his hand. He kisses a shoulder, biting softly. “ _...around my knot and drip down your thighs..._ ”

Sam rolls toward Dean, nudging their heads. “...you're quite the talker, **_Alpha_**...now why don't you get back there an' prove your words...”

Dean gnashes his teeth on the skin over Sam's shoulder, but he tenderly kisses the cheek and the corner of the lips. “ _mmm...such a toppy Omega...nnnn, kinda like that..._ ” He kisses across shoulder blades, hands shaping down the long, lean torso. He reaches the waist and pats one hip. “Roll onto your side for me.” Once Sam does, Dean places a pillow down, then gestures for Sam to roll back. He hovers a bit to heft Sam exactly where he wants him, how he wants his knees spread out and bottom raised.

After all that adjusting and touching, the anticipation sends quivers through Sam and as his ass is kept at a perfect height, he contracts his muscles and releases another two globs of lube and his hole gapes wide, making a loud squelching noise to push out ooze that runs out his rectum to drip onto the towel under him.

“ _...god...that is so fuckin' hot, sammy..._ ” Dean situates himself between the spread thighs, numbly stroking himself only to look like he's busy. He's harder than he's ever been, his knot swollen as far as he assumes he can get, before he shoots. Now he's definite he won't last long inside that beautiful pink-hole that keeps enticing him to enter. He poises his form along Sam's back, one hand guiding his tip in, just at the loose stretch and as he controls his body briefly, he puts his hands on either side of Sam's head, leaning down toward an ear. “...you're gonna wanna grab onto me again...you'll feel me sink in, then I'll push my knot through...I'll be inside you, but not all the way...I raised your hips to comfort you, but also angles your body so I can get my cocktip directly into your womb. That last one may hurt more than all the other stuff...”

“...i's okay, Dean...” Sam latches to both of Dean's wrists. “...I trust you.”

It's the best comment Sam could've ever said to replace “love”, which gives him the easier road to introduce the emotion. He nudges his face against Sam's. “ _...love you..._ ”

Sam jolts a little to hear the words, from someone who doesn't say it much. “... _love you_ right back...” He leans into Dean's hair and squeezes the wrists hard to brace for impact.

“...just a warning...m'not gonna last...but I promise it'll be memorable...”

“ _...okay..._ ”

Dean gives a small smile, pressing his forehead into Sam's upper back as he takes a quick breathe, in and out, to prepare himself. He draws his hips back, closes his eyes and turns his hands so his fingers thread Sam's. He jabs once, testing the give, making Sam jolt and cry out, then he pulls away and slams in, hard. Sam's squirming under him, trying to move upward with the force of the thrust going into him, but Dean drops to hold him still.

“ _...don' move, don' move...please..._ I've got one more left in me, then I'll shoot...”

“ _...ohgod...it feels—dean...deandeandeandean..._ ”

“ _...ssshhh..._ you're doin' okay...jus' lay still, let me do the work... _let your body go...you'll be fine_.” Dean braces his head on the back of Sam, pulling backward to jaw hard, then up with a hurried flick of his hips and his cocktip finding a way into the womb. “ _...ohgod..._ this is exactly what I thought—an' more...”

“ _...dean...m'sorry...I'm gonna come..._ ”

“ _...tha's good...comecome...come for me... I'll come with you..._ ”

Sam begins to feel his thighs vibrate, the sensation draws up his body, making his teeth chatter, and then he feels his inner hole expunge a load of thick lube, his anal walls clenching tight. Dean arcs upward on a long, deep growl as he not only shoots his load, but he's milked of everything inside his knot. He wants to thrust, keep thrusting, but he can't move, feeling Sam so tight around him like he's being drained of all life.

Sam starts to move, his ass pushing back, his muscles are loose again and he's eager to feel the knot swell. “ _...more, dean...c'mon..._ I wanna do this again...”

“ _jesus, kid..._ I'm nearly wiped out with that first one.”

“...uh, can I do something to help?”

Dean shimmies back, feeling his cocktip slip out of the womb. He begins to thrust slow and steady, realizing Sam is clenching his muscles, even as he rolls his hips back. “ _...ohgod..._ ”

“...wha—? Want me to stop?”

“ _no, nah..._ keep goin'...I'm actually gettin' hard again...”

“ _...ohohohoh...deandean...your knot is swellin'_...” Sam is trapped between a pleasurable cry and a laugh. “ _...mygod..._ how does this thing fit me, then...stay in...i's—exactly...what I needed. _.._ ”

“I know...me too...funny, huh?'

“Not really, but I know what you meant.”

Dean readjusts the pillow, pulling Sam's ass higher into the air, then he jack-hammers at a continual pace to shoot yet another, smaller load into the rectum. He starts to feel Sam quake, so he angles his hips to jab upward and plunge into the womb right about the time Sam's expelling another large amount of lubrication and crying out from the intense release. As his prostate is massaged by the added pressure, Sam rises off one hand to jerk himself to a strained ejaculation with a string of stark white semen. He continues to shoot as Dean slip-slides in and out, then he crumbles back down to the mattress, pounding up into Dean's pelvis.

“ _...more?_ ”

“ _...nnn-yeah...again...please, I need you...deandean..._ ” Sam gulps down his hurried breathes. “ _...alpha...my alpha...my mate..._ ”

Dean slides his head down to lay against the side of Sam's face. “ _...you're_ ** _mine_** _, sammy..._ ** _my_** _mate..._ ** _my_** _Omega..._ ” He thrusts slow and long to eventually increase his speed to a faster pace where he not only hears the _slapslapslap_ of their bodies, but the squishy-sound of the slip-slide plunge into a wet hole full of semen, possibly about to overflow. He pulls backward to thrust in and up, again hitting the exact spot of the womb and he feels Sam shaking under him, releasing a final, steady stream of his seed; Sam clenches around him and douses his entire length in a coating of thick lube.

Sam cries out, arching his back and thrusting against the swollen knot until he's so exhausted he's burying his head under a stack of pillows, hands clenched tight on the thin sheet under him.

Dean finally feels he has nothing left to give, but he keeps pushing into Sam until both of them are calmed and strangely relaxed. He collapses on top of Sam; Sam is plastered to the mattress, drained and sleepy. Dean rests his head on Sam's shoulder, face turned to Sam who lays weary on his right cheek. Dean reaches up to pet over, then finger-comb through the dried dark brown strands. “...no doubt in my mind we're compatible in every way.”

Sam softly snickers, barely able to keep his lids open. “I think I'm crashing...'cuz I hope this isn't how I'll normally react when we knot.” He feels the rush of pleasure at the prospect of a future with Dean as his mate, being able to repeat moments like this again and again. “I'd hate to miss out on something good.”

Dean snorts and lays his cheek on Sam's shoulder blade. _God..._ this body feels incredible under him, around him. It feels weird to know this wasn't simply an urge he had to give into, he actually feels this was meant to be. And no one, not even John Winchester is going to fuck this up for him.

Sam is **_his_**. Sam has always been his alone to have and to keep.

Dean tightens an arm around, and under, Sam's chest. “...tell me when I'm too much...we'll flip an' sleep on our sides...” There's a silence, then a soft snore. Dean glances up and snickers. “...poor kid...” He places a soft kiss to the flushed cheek, then he makes the decision on his own to roll them, so they lay on their left sides, still tied together. Both arms around Sam, Dean pulls him flush to his chest wall, reaching out to tug the covers up to keep them warm from the chill that would soon set in. Dean looks around for a clock, finding the digital read-out telling him he had, maybe, a few more hours before their father came home.

He settles down on the pillow behind his brother's head, then he buries his face away in the soft brown strands. Sam makes a noise under breath, shuffling a little to lean more into Dean, then wraps his own arms tight about the strong forearms holding him. Sam sighs in contentment, his body relaxing as he falls into a deeper sleep.

Dean knows he'll stay half-awake the whole time, figuring out a way to explain to his father that things were about to change around here, now that Sam was his mate. John could hate him, if he wanted, but this was the way things were going to be from now on. John could have that freedom of choice to stay or go. For now, Dean is choosing to stay...especially if Sam starts carrying after today.

Dean hides away a smile as he presses his face into Sam's nape and tries to sleep. He's soothed by the occasional hand rubbing over his arms and hands, always reassuring him that everything will be all right as long as they were together.

Always.

 

 **...the end**


End file.
